The Bourne Ultimatum

"My words are not so well phrased as those of my learned, newfound relative," added the aged hero of France. "But I know the killing must stop; it's what my woman tried to tell me. I am a hypocrite, of course, for I am no stranger to killing, so I shall only say that this kind of killing must stop. There is no business arrangement here, no profit in the kill, only a sick madman's vengeance that demands the u

"That's the most cold-blooded fucking reasoning I've ever heard!" cried John St. Jacques by the window.

"I thought your words were very well chosen," said the former judge to the felon from Paris. "Très bien."

"D'accord."

"And I think I'm out of my mind to have anything to do with either of you," broke in Jason Bourne. "But right now I don't have a choice. ... It's eleven-thirty-five, gentlemen. The clock is ru

"The what?" asked Prefontaine.

"Whatever's going to happen will happen during the next two, five, ten or twenty-four hours. I'm flying back to Blackburne Airport, where I'll create a scene, the bereaved husband and father who's gone crazy over the killing of his wife and children. It won't be difficult for me, I assure you; I'll make a hell of a ruckus. ... I'll demand an immediate flight to Tranquility, and when I get here there'll be three pine coffins on the pier, supposedly containing my wife and children."

"Everything as it should be," interrupted the Frenchman. "Bien."

"Very bien," agreed Bourne. "I'll insist that one be opened, and then I'll scream or collapse or both, whatever comes to mind, so that whoever's watching won't forget what they've seen. St. Jacques here will have to control me-be rough, Joh

"For this Jackal?" asked the Bostonian. "He'll know where you are?"

"Of course he will. A lot of people, including the staff, will have seen where I was taken. He'll find out, that's child's play for him."

"So you wait for him, monsieur? You think the monseigneur will walk into such a trap? Ridicule!'

"Not at all, monsieur," replied Jason calmly. "To begin with, I won't be there, and by the time he finds that out, I'll have found him."

"For Christ's sake, how?" half shouted St. Jacques.

"Because I'm better than he is," answered Jason Bourne. "I always was."

The scenario went as pla

So he was watched. By many-the uninformed, civilians and authorities alike-as a nervous Henry Sykes at Government House kept his word. The official investigation was solely under his command. It was quiet, thorough-and nonexistent.

Bourne behaved far worse on the pier of Tranquility I

"It's all so horrible, so meaningless!" said the visitor from Toronto softly to the shadowed figure in a chair across the room. "I hope you're a religious man, David. I am. Faith helps in such times as these. Your loved ones are in the arms of Christ now."

"Thank you." A momentary breeze off the water rustled the drapes, permitting a narrow shaft of sunlight to flash across the room. It was enough.

"Wait a minute," said the second Canadian. "You're not-good Lord, you're not Dave Webb! Dave has-"

"Be quiet," ordered St. Jacques, standing at the door behind the two visitors.

"Joh

"Shut up," said the owner of Tranquility I

"Oh, dear God!" cried the aide to the Crown governor of Montserrat in a clipped British accent.

"Listen to me, both of you," said St. Jacques, rushing forward between the two Canadians and turning to stand in front of the armchair. "I wish I'd never let you in here, but there's nothing we can do about that now. ... I thought you'd add weight, two more observers, if anyone asked you questions, which they will, and that's exactly what you're going to do. You've been talking to David Webb, consoling David Webb. Do you understand that?"

"I don't understand a damn thing," objected the bewildered visitor who had spoken of the comfort of faith. "Who the hell is he?"

"He's the senior aide to the Crown governor," answered St. Jacques. "I'm telling you this so you will understand-"

"You mean the army brass who showed up in full uniform with a squad of black soldiers?" asked the guest who had fished with David Webb.

"Among his duties is chief military aide-de-camp. He's a brigadier-"

"We saw the bastard leave," protested the fisherman. "From the dining room, we all saw him leave! He was with the old Frenchman and the nurse-"

"You saw someone else leave. Wearing sunglasses."

"Webb ... ?"

"Gentlemen!" The governor's aide rose from the chair, wearing the ill-fitting jacket worn by Jason Bourne when he had flown back to Tranquility from Blackburne Airport. "You are welcome guests on our island but, as guests, you will abide by the Crown's decisions in emergencies. You will either abide by them, or, as we would do in extreme weather, we will be forced to place you in custody."

"Hey, come on, Henry. They're friends. ..."

"Friends do not call brigadiers 'bastards'-"

"You might if you were once a busted corporal, General," inserted the man of faith. "My companion here didn't mean anything. Long before the whole damned Canadian army needed his company's engineers, he was a screwed-up infantry grunt. His company, incidentally. He wasn't too bright in Korea."

"Let's cut the crap," said Webb's fishing companion. "So we've been in here talking to Dave, right?"